


Six Bullets

by thecrazyocelotfangirl



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Masturbation, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 16:07:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8630557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecrazyocelotfangirl/pseuds/thecrazyocelotfangirl
Summary: After getting half of REX's launch codes from the Armstech president, Revolver Ocelot has a new challenge- keeping a handle on himself when Big Boss' clone walks in.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First fic plz be gentle.
> 
> I'm kind of not great at writing totally "serious" stories so this gets a little goofy in parts. But MGS gets pretty goofy at times, no?
> 
> And next time you fight Ocelot listen veeerrrry carefully when he reloads. He's audibly grunting, and I think that planted this whole idea in my mind. Didn't help me come up with a decent title, though.
> 
> Special thanks to Velasa for proofreading!

“Okay, I’ll ask you one more time,” he paced around the old man laying on the cold metal floor. “Give us REX’s detonation code, and I _probably_ won’t hurt you.”

  
Kenneth Baker could only muster a terrified whimper. Revolver Ocelot had tossed his cane to the other side of the room, leaving him useless to get up. Now, the Foxhound interrogator was standing over him, and as ridiculous as that old west getup looked on him when he first saw him, Ocelot was downright terrifying now. Silver spurs jangled with each step, his gun glinting in the dim light at his hip, and he stared down at him with his cold, sharp face. He held a lit cigarette in his gloved hand, the tip glowing and trailing smoke as ash fell onto Baker’s suit.

  
“N-no, I’ll never give you…!” and suddenly one hand was being painfully pinned under Ocelot’s boot.

  
“I made it clear to the both of you, after Mantis wasn’t able to penetrate past your implants. Give me the code or I’ll make you _wish_ you were dead.” Baker stared up wide-eyed, incredulous at what he’d gotten himself into. He never had received any training against torture, and knew the longer he held back, the more pain Ocelot would put him through. He heard whispers about this man, how he worked in some of the USSR’s most notorious prisons as an interrogator, how he utterly relished in seeing his subjects writhe and scream in pain, and worse yet, that torture was downright arousing to him. But what would truly be worse, as he was realizing, was the idea of Foxhound using REX to fire a nuclear missile, to reveal the weapon to the world and provoke disaster.

  
Ocelot took a long pull on the cigarette and blew the smoke into the dim air. “Well, if you’re going to just lie there, looks like I’ll have to work on you a bit.” Baker’s scream was immediately silenced as Ocelot’s boot lifted from his hand and went directly onto his throat. “Part of me feels it’ll take me nothing at all to get a pathetic little thing like you to break…” A choked cry escaped from Baker as he put just a little more weight onto his neck. “But part of me feels like we’ll have _far_ more fun if I take my time.”

  
Now Ocelot took his foot off, leaving Baker coughing. “You…you monster! They weren’t lying when they said you were a sadist! You’re only in this for your sick thrills.”

  
A nasty sneer crossed Ocelot’s face. “You’re wrong. The _only_ thing I want out of this is your half of the code. You could end this right now by just telling me. You’ll leave relatively unscathed, I’ll leave with the code, and everyone goes home happy. The more you resist me, the more unpleasant and _painful_ it’ll be for you.”

  
Baker struggled to sit up, trying to see where his cane was. “I’m not dealing with the mess you and the rest of Foxhound are going to leave. Do you realize what launching that nuke will lead to?” Ocelot simply stared uncaringly at him, dragging at his cigarette all the while. Baker had, surprisingly, managed to stand with the aid of one of the large metal pillars in the room. “You’ll expose REX’s existence, and…!”

  
In nearly a flash, Ocelot pulled him backwards by the collar of his shirt and punched him hard in his face. Baker fell back down onto the floor grates, his head making an awful ‘crack’ as it connected with the ground. Ocelot slowly walked over to him, spurs jingling loudly in the deafening silence. “Do you _really_ think we care about any of that? We know damn well what REX’s might will result in. We _want_ conflict. You’re an arms manufacturer, no? You funded Metal Gear’s development after all.” Now he squatted down, and stared down at Baker with ice-cold eyes. Taking another drag on the cigarette, he shoved the lit end right into the sensitive side of Baker’s neck, eliciting a tortured scream. “Didn’t I tell you? This will only end badly for you if you continue to not give me what I want. Give me the codes _now_.”

  
Baker tried to pull himself away, but Ocelot immediately grabbed his right arm. “I’ve got to hand it to you, you’ve held on far longer than I’d think some fatcat like you ever would. However, I don’t think you’ll want to go on after this.”

  
“You…” And Ocelot suddenly drew his gun, tossing it to catch it by the barrel, and delivered a couple hard blows to Baker’s head with the handle. “I’m getting _quite_ sick of you! Let’s see how you handle this,” Ocelot drawled.

  
As Ocelot was down next to him, Baker looked over and noticed something he wished he hadn’t. The interrogator seemed to be sporting a noticeable erection. Baker’s thoughts turned fearful. Was Ocelot messed up enough to try anything worse? At that moment, Ocelot followed Baker’s gaze. “Heh, I guess you’ve noticed.” He gave the area a few rubs, letting out a pleased hum. “Sometimes I just can’t…help myself. Don’t worry. I have zero desire to fuck a fat old man like you. If you continue to prolong things, however, I _could_ use some help relieving myself of this, ah, distraction. But first, I’d like to see that arm of yours.”

  
Ocelot grabbed the man’s arm again, and this time came down to his side, painfully pinning his elbow over his hip. “This is your final warning, old man. I’ll stop the second you give in.”

  
“I’ll die before I give you the codes,” Baker said, knowing well what a complete lie that was.

  
And with that, Ocelot shoved Baker’s arm down with force over his hip. The man’s feverish screaming indicated that at a minimum, the joint was dislocated- more likely, it had been fractured. Laughing, Ocelot stood up and kicked him hard in the ribs for good measure.

  
“You don’t wanna _die_ like this, do you?” Baker had no response, other than to keep screaming. Finally, they died down to ragged breaths, as he struggled to speak.

  
“You…you win, you s-sick bastard. I-I’ll give you the d-damn codes.” Ocelot sneered yet again. There was still much work to do. He had to bait Snake into this room.

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Solid Snake ran down the narrow hallway of the second-floor basement with great urgency. After the DARPA chief’s sudden death, he had a very bad feeling about the second hostage he had to rescue. At the very least, it seemed like Snake was in the right spot. Towards the end of the hall, there was an oddly smoothed-over section of wall. Remembering Campbell’s advice, he placed a C4 charge on the spot, and detonated it. The wall crumbled instantly, revealing a darkened room.

  
Once Snake walked inside, he saw a man tied to a central pillar. _Am I too late?_ The man, bruised, bloody, and with one arm hanging at a strange angle, seemed quite dead. Much to Snake’s relief, the man let out a pained groan. Realizing he was his target, he quickly approached, glad to see the man alive, though the extent of his injuries meant Snake would have to work quickly to get him to safety. _He’s alive…_

  
Snake asked if he was Kenneth Baker but again the man could only moan. Totally focused on rescuing him, Snake reached out to try to undo the restraints attaching him to the pillar.

  
“N-no, don’t touch it!” Baker cried out. Suddenly, Snake noticed dozens of wires running crisscrossed from the four outer pillars to the floor, each connected to a block of C4. He had only a moment to take in how close he was to blowing up half the base, before he had to dodge a sudden gunshot.

  
“ _Right_ , touch that wire and the C4 will blow up along with the old man!” came a voice from the back of the room. A jingling sound accompanied his steps. _Spurs?_ The man who walked out looked bizarrely out of place for a secret Alaskan military base. He was older, at least fifty, and had long grey-white hair that flowed over his shoulders, along with a well-groomed mustache. His high cheekbones, knife-edge sharp features, and piercing eyes reminded Snake of an actor he couldn’t quite remember the name of. Strangest though, was the man’s clothing. He was wearing a fine old west style suit, the red trim and tie visible from right across the room. Bullets glittered from his gunbelt and bandolier. And indeed, strapped to his cowboy boots were a pair of spurs. A red-gloved hand gripped an old Peacemaker revolver. Snake seriously wondered if there was a costume party somewhere on base, and this guy had gotten lost.

  
Sauntering out, the man regarded Snake with an odd look in his eyes. It was distressingly tinged with what appeared to be a fair bit of lust. “So _you’re_ the one that the Boss keeps talking about,” the man drawled. Snake was still trying to process the whole scene, and could only look the stranger up and down.

  
“And you?”

  
The old man smirked, and replied, “Special Operations Foxhound…” He began to skillfully twirl the gun. “Revolver Ocelot.” Spinning it again, he tossed the gun over his shoulder and caught it. Snake was admittedly quite impressed. “I’ve been waiting for _you_ , Solid Snake,” Ocelot said looking him in the eyes as he holstered his gun with a flourish. “ _Now_ we’ll see if the man can live up to the legend!”

  
Ocelot walked slowly around one of the pillars to stand straight in front of Snake, pulled out the revolver, and began to stroke the barrel in a startlingly sexual way. _Wait- what?!_ At this angle, a bulge that looked nearly ready to tear out of Ocelot’s pants was clearly visible. Snake balked- was he seriously getting hit on by some old cowboy wannabe?

  
“ _This_ is the greatest handgun _ever_ made…” The Foxhound member appeared to regard the pistol with as much desire as he had for Snake, and continued to fondle it. “The Colt Single Action Army…” Spinning the gun around yet again, he began to eject the spent shells out of the chamber. Snake noticed with dismay that this also looked like he was jacking the gun off.

  
“Six bullets… _more_ than enough to kill _anything_ that moves.” The only thing Snake could feel about this whole situation was disbelief, as well as disgust. That gun has totally been up the old man’s ass, and he was desperate to push such repulsive images out of his mind. Now, the focus was to kill this weirdo and get Baker out of here alive. “Now I’ll show you why they call me…” More damn twirling. It had lost its novelty to Snake. “ _Revolver_.” And with that, the gun was holstered again. He held his hands to the side, and motioned for Snake to do the same. Did he seriously want a duel? It was probably for the best to play along, and Snake holstered his SOCOM likewise.

  
Baker let out a terrified squeal as the two men stared each other down. “P-please, don’t hit me!” He was ignored. A grin split Ocelot’s mouth, Snake hoped it was simply excitement for their impending battle. Finally…

  
“Draw!”

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Draw!”

  
Ocelot pounced behind a pillar as Snake’s bullet hit the nearby wall. His own shot missed on purpose, as he simply wanted to get him to hide. It was incredible- Solid Snake was truly a perfect clone of Big Boss. And he was in that tight sneaking suit. Those things showed off everything, especially his full, muscled ass. That was one thing he’d hoped John would pass down to his clones, and Ocelot’s thoughts quickly drifted to if his dick size was also passed down. His own cock twitched, barely held down in his pants, the sheer arousal leaving him panting already. But this was no time to get off- for now. Now, he would simply tire out and wound Snake a bit, perhaps see that lovely body of his in action.

  
“Hiding won’t help you!” he shouted as he ran out from the pillar, around the corner towards Snake. Perhaps the young man would be impressed by his ricochet expertise, so he fired towards the far wall, bouncing towards Snake. That one missed, but Ocelot would ensure the next ones wouldn’t. It was immediately evident that what was possibly the strongest erection he’d had in decades was going to make running quite uncomfortable. Hidden, Ocelot brusquely adjusted his crotch as Snake’s bullets whizzed by. It’d do for now, and hopefully, his unusually stilted gait would go unnoticed in the heat of battle.

  
He cocked the hammer of his revolver, and pulled the trigger. The bullet ricocheted off one wall, through the wires, and this time hit Snake, eliciting a pained cry. Ocelot just loved the danger of a battle like this, and traps certainly added to it. Sure, one block of C4 was more than enough, but this many was far more exciting. Regardless, he still wanted to ensure that the both of them made it out alive, and…

  
_Damn, I can’t focus one bit._ Ocelot ran and hid, dodging bullets, and firing off a few shots until the chamber was empty. His cock throbbed hot between his long, slim legs, desperately in need of attention. He spun the revolver until he held it straight up, ejected the spent shells, and began to reload, audibly panting and grunting the whole time. What a hot mess he was, it was obvious that he had to get himself off. Not like Snake would let him fuck him, so he had no choice.

  
Snake shot at the pillar, and he shot back. “There’s _nothing_ like the feeling of slamming a _loooong_ silver bullet into a _well_ -greased chamber.” A yell indicated he hit the younger man, but it might take a bit more before Snake needed to patch himself up. The battle could not go on as he was.

  
Holding his SAA in one hand at the ready, he began unbuttoning the fly of his pants, and then started to pull his underwear down. After a brief pause to fire off another shot, he finally exposed himself, his erection springing free, sensitive to the cool air. Normally, it took him a while to get hard, but merely looking at Snake produced instant results. He began to stroke himself with his free hand as several bullets flew past the pillar he was behind.

  
That first touch was enough to get a soft moan out of him, but he had to keep it together. Or did he? No- the thought of the young man hearing his pleasure made his cock grow painfully hard and precum start to bead up at the tip. Another stroke, and the feeling of his foreskin sliding over his glans elicited a louder moan.

  
Ocelot now braced himself against the pillar, and got to pleasuring himself in earnest. Speeding up his pace got more cries from him, and out of the corner of his eye, it appeared Snake had stopped trying to shoot at him. _Taking notice, hm?_ This man was right here hearing every obscene noise, and he wasn’t that oblivious, he certainly knew damn well why the fight had come to a halt. Clear fluid was now pouring from his swollen dick onto the floor as Ocelot was fucking into his hand. His mind was filled with nothing but images of Big Boss. His smile, his eyes, his thick, muscular body… Big Boss might not be in the room, but Snake was, and he was making his every desire come flooding back to him.

  
Ocelot’s hips bucked at a feverish pace as he began losing control of his thoughts, his sharp demeanor giving way to pure lust. His face was now covered in a light sheen of sweat, and a deep blush had spread across his cheekbones all the way to his ears. Even his hair was a mess, and his motions were throwing his carefully arranged clothes and gunbelts out of whack.

  
“Ahh…J-John…fuck!!” Ocelot’s orgasm came fast and hard, nearly taking him by surprise. His drawn-out scream echoed throughout the room as he convulsed, while thick spurts of semen hit the floor and his pants. The shaking throughout his body was so strong it brought him to his knees, and then he collapsed, still giving himself a few final pumps as the last of his seed dribbled out. Disbelief began crawling into his mind- was the feared Shalashaska really laying there on the floor, reduced to a quivering puddle over a man? But it wasn’t like anyone would know, since Baker would likely be too afraid to say anything, if he didn’t succumb to his wounds. Doubtful Snake would even mention this whole incident; poor thing was likely frozen in shock.

  
As he lay there, he slid his hand up the barrel of his treasured revolver again. Firing a gun was indeed like an orgasm, what with the tension before pulling the trigger, the hammer slamming into the primer triggering an explosion, sending a bullet shooting out. With one last loving caress, Ocelot holstered his gun, tucked his penis back into his pants, and slowly began standing up. Falling certainly didn’t do his, old, aching joints any favors.

  
He needed a few seconds to fix his hair and clothes, and double checked he had buttoned his fly back up. Pulling out his SAA, he felt completely reenergized and ready to fight- in fact, he hadn’t felt this good in many years. He peered around the side of the pillar to see if Snake was ready to face him-

  
“All right, I’m alive again…Let’s go!”


End file.
